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Mother began leaving me to do the home cooking or leather tanning, both of which were chores I despised. I wanted to go with Father and hunt but Mother always dragged me away saying it was the male's job to hunt and female's job to cook and tend to the house. It was time I took things into my own hands.

I managed to fashion myself a makeshift lock-pick and spent a good few hours poking and prodding at the lock to get it to release but eventually to my delight it gave way. Opening the old wooden chest I found a slightly rusted curved steel blade, a dagger made of the same fashion, a bow made of the wood of a Hist tree, and quiver of wooden arrows that I could tell were poisoned at the tip. Either that or it was burn marks but I wasn't going to take the chance. Some poisons out there would stop a grown man's heart in seconds and others would do much much worse. Beneath the weapons lay a steel armor set that looked just like scales with leather padding and a large coin purse. I didn't dare touch the money but I brushed my claws against the blades and armor appreciatively. At least from what I could tell at 15 years old it was well crafted, and well used, but very very clean like Father had been maintaining it all this time.

Hearing the door open my heart dropped as Father came in and dropped what would be our next weeks worth of food in dismay at what I had done. Almost instantly I looked to the floor in shame for disobeying him and I wanted to cry. Instead I just sat there not looking into the chest or father but just the floor waiting to be punished. Instead Father got to his knee and lifted my chin to his snout looking me straight in the eyes and speaking with the same soft comforting voice he always spoke to me in.

"Jasriella, my daughter, I was hoping I'd never have to tell you what was in that chest or why I kept it locked but it seems you've inherited your father's stubbornness. Come sit with me at the fireplace I'll tell you a story."

And so I sat in Father's lap that night as he told me stories of when he was a Shadowscale and how he went around as a murderer for hire. When I asked him what a Shadowscale was he told me it was an Argonian who was born under the sign of the Shadow. It was the same sign I was born under and when I asked him if I was a Shadowscale he just told me that maybe in a different time I would be but this life is much better than one devoted to blood and murder.

Eventually I fell asleep in Father's lap. The next morning I woke up to something pulling at my tail. Probably one of my biggest annoyances was someone grabbing my tail, my annoyance was replaced by anger when I was dragged off my bed and onto the floor with a stick being poked into my breast.

"It's obvious you'll never be the house-wife your Mother and I have tried to raise you to be-"

Those first words, especially from Father and the first thing I heard in the morning, cut through my heart like a silver blade. Despair slowly filled me but I didn't let it show I wanted to hear what else he was going to throw at me.

"-but you have that fire in your eyes, something only the greatest warriors have."

Then he dropped the stick on my bare stomach. I noticed as I picked up the stick when he poked me he almost tore off my brazier which would have been quite an inconvenience as mother didn't have any more to give me that would fit. I was still quite small around the chest.

"Have breakfast and come outside. It's time I raised you like a son instead of your mother raising you as a daughter. Keep your wits about you and stay light on your feet if you wish to survive."

It was from then on for the next 5 years that father raised me as his son instead of a daughter.

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